


Friends with Benefits

by spacejunkgirl



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Frottage, M/M, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, fiona and sasha are only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacejunkgirl/pseuds/spacejunkgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cold in the caravan, Rhys can't sleep, and what better way to get warm than to snuggle up with your best bro?</p><p>And maybe also make out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends with Benefits

It’s silent in the caravan, and almost too cold. Rhys lies on the couch and stares up at the ceiling, arms wrapped around himself in a feeble attempt at warmth. Sasha is dead asleep in the corner, snoring among piles of discarded clothing and spare pillows; Fiona is on the roof with Gortys and Loaderbot, where she will be for the next hour or so as she usually is, too much of an insomniac to sleep yet. Rhys sighs, his excess energy expending itself through the rapid rocking of his foot (It disguises his almost-shivering, as well). At least Jack is quiet for once; it’s nearly impossible to sleep through his relentless blabbing. 

Rhys jumps at the feeling of something heavy on his foot, stilling his movement. He looks down to find Vaughn giving him a tired, unimpressed frown.

“Can you not?” he says.

“Sorry, man, it’s just cold in here,” Rhys replies, leaning his head back and glaring at the ceiling.

“Get a blanket, then,” Vaughn says, pulling his own blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Rhys rolls his upper body to the right, towards where Sasha is sleeping on the other side of a dressing screen. She is still snoring loudly; he imagines her sprawled all over the pile of blankets like a dragon amongst her hoard. “Nah. I don’t wanna wake up Sasha…”

There is silence for a moment, and then another, and Rhys lifts his head to look down at Vaughn, who is watching him with a measured expression, eyes dark and a little furrow between his brows. Finally his face softens and he half-smiles, shaking his head.

“Whatever, dude,” he says, patting Rhys’s ankle, “but this has got to stop.”

He flops down onto the couch, his head turned away from Rhys, who goes back to staring at the ceiling. The wind outside picks up, rattling over the caravan. There is some rustling from the roof, but several moments pass without sign of Fiona.

Rhys is unaware that he had begun rocking his foot again, only realizing when Vaughn’s hand is on his ankle again.

“Sorry,” Rhys hisses.

For only a split second, Vaughn looks annoyed, before he opens his arms, his blanket turning him into some kind of giant silly-looking bat humanoid. “You wanna share?” he says. Rhys considers the situation; it’s possible that Vaughn is teasing him, though even if he is Vaughn is the type of person who’d also be serious, even if the offer was made in jest. Is there even enough room for the both of them on the couch? Would they be spooning? Would that be weird? Does Rhys even care??

With a relenting sigh, Rhys rolls into a sitting position, and then half-walks, half-throws himself onto the couch in front of Vaughn, whose breath escapes him in an ungraceful puff.

“Rhys!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

As Vaughn lowers his arm and, consequently, the blanket, Rhys suddenly becomes acutely aware of how close he is to his friend. There is indeed enough room for the both of them on the couch, albeit barely, but any personal bubble either of them had had before this is now nonexistent.

“Better? Can you chill now?” Vaughn says teasingly, and his breath on Rhys’s neck does not escape the latter’s attention. He laughs, trying to ease the tension, but it only seems to make things weirder.

“Well, it’s warmer, at least.” He fumbles with his hands, trying to figure out what to do with them, before settling on wrapping them around himself again. Vaughn does the same.

“Cool,” he says with a grin. “Night, Rhys.”

“Night.”

For a lot of reasons, sleep is now the last thing on Rhys’s mind, however. Even though he closes his eyes (Somewhat forcefully, truth be told), he is unable to think of anything other than how warm he is under the blanket, and how cozy the couch is, and how Vaughn’s breath is still puffing against his neck, and how his stomach twists up weirdly at the non-proximity between them.

He furrows his brow, frowning, unsure what to feel. Once again Vaughn exhales against Rhys’s neck, and that does not help his tangled stomach, nor his fluttering heart, nor his conflicted mind. He opens an eye, staring down at Vaughn, who is entirely unaware the effect he is having on his friend. His eyes are closed lightly, lips parted. His hair is tousled from sleep, and, Rhys notices with some amusement (And endearment?), so is his longer-than-usual goatee. He’s not completely asleep yet, but his breathing has deepened; he tucks his chin against his chest and relaxes a little bit, his arms slackening and falling into Rhys’s stomach.

Every muscle in Rhys’s body stiffens, and Vaughn wakes up with a tiny start. He blinks one eye at a time, and Rhys can’t help but laugh a bit despite his own inner turmoil.

Vaughn becomes aware of Rhys’s eyes on him, and looks up curiously. The slight bags under his eyes hint towards his sleepiness, but his eyes are alert and awake, crystal clear in the dark caravan. “Rhys? You okay?” he asks, briefly rubbing his nose with his knuckle.

Rhys cycles inwardly through several answers; what comes out of his mouth, though, is unchecked and startles even him.

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?” Literally as it’s leaving his mouth he regrets it. He looks anywhere but at Vaughn and tries to backpedal. “Sorry, no, I meant—I’m exhausted—I’m gonna go back over to my side--”

He starts to move, but fingers catch his collar and pull him back. There’s a tentative pause, and then before Rhys can register what’s happening, Vaughn is kissing him.

Rhys’s heart jumps into his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, because that’s what you do when you kiss, _dumbass_. Blood pounds in his ears, but he tries to focus past it and his terror-tensed body, tries to actually focus on the fact that he’s being kissed.

Vaughn isn’t a half-bad kisser, actually, once Rhys gets past the surrealism of the situation. Once he can finally reign himself in again and relax, he finds the longer it goes on, the more he enjoys it.

Vaughn’s fingers are still hooked around Rhys’s collar, and due to the way they are laying, neither of their heads are tilted, meaning the kiss is a messy, nose-and-chin-bumping affair, but not unpleasant by any means. Rhys had never really given too much thought before this as to what it’d be like to kiss his best friend, but he finds it’s not quite as strange as he thought it would be, even as Vaughn bravely presses his tongue into Rhys’s mouth, even as Rhys finally finds it in himself to respond with cautious teeth around Vaughn’s bottom lip.

It’s Vaughn who finally pulls away, and Rhys’s skin is on fire with sudden thrill, with the sudden full realization of what’s just happened. He laughs, and Vaughn laughs in response.

“Too weird?” he asks. Rhys half-shrugs, an awkward gesture laying on his side.

“No? I-I mean, I don’t know yet.” He laughs. “Maybe? But also, honestly, kind of… awesome?”

They stare at each other for a somewhat awkward moment, and things shift. Rhys realizes, with equal amounts embarrassment and longing, that he wishes Vaughn hadn’t stopped. He’s never _longed_ for his best friend before, and this new feeling settles weirdly in his chest, as if something is pushing him from the inside (He assumes this is how it would feel if Jack could physically interact with him, and then he pushes that thought out of his brain, for fear of somehow summoning him). Vaughn is watching him with those weirdly clear eyes of his, his pupils startlingly large, his cheeks just a shade darker.

Unable to stand the awkward silence anymore, Rhys does what he’d been conditioned by Hyperion to do so well: what he wants. He puts his mechanical hand on Vaughn’s cheek and pulls him into a second kiss, as if they had never parted. Fortunately for him and his confidence in his ability to read nonverbal cues, this seems to be what Vaughn wants, as well; he manages to tilt his head a bit and deepen the kiss, pulling on the collar of Rhys’s shirt.

For several minutes all they do is kiss. Rhys is unsure what to do next, or if there should even be a next. His conflicted thoughts and feelings are still around, though less persistent than before, now giving way to hazy bliss and hormones and warmth. Vaughn’s free hand slides around the back of Rhys’s neck, pulling him into the kiss, all hot breath and tongue and teeth. Bravely, in a fateful turn of events, Vaughn pushes Rhys’s mechanical shoulder; though he doesn’t lean all the way onto his back, the readjustment is enough for them to suddenly be in complete physical contact, from chest to feet. Heat and arousal suddenly burst to life in Rhys’s stomach, and he bites down harder on Vaughn’s lip than he’d meant to. Vaughn sighs, but Rhys pulls away, gasping for breath.

“Rhys?” Vaughn says, blinking hazily, his cheeks ruddy. “You alright?”

Rhys laughs nervously, unable to gather the will to pull his hips out from under the pleasant weight of Vaughn’s. “Wh—um… Is this… What is this?” he asks.

Vaughn’s brow furrows thoughtfully, and that weird feeling in Rhys’s chest twinges again. “Um… A good make-out? I thought…?” He squints one eye, now unsure. “If you’re uncomfortable we can stop, bro.”

Rhys leans his head back, contemplating the possible irony of his friend’s casual usage of the word ‘bro’. “Honestly, I-I’m… not sure.” He wrinkles his nose at the ceiling. “Like… I dunno. Are things gonna be weird between us now, man? Did I screw up our whole friendship?” He sighs.

Vaughn shrugs, though it’s not quite as casual as he seems to wish it. “Give it a couple days and the weirdness will fade, probably,” he says, with an amused grin. “And besides, there’s a reason the term ‘friends with benefits’ was invented.” He elbows Rhys playfully, though given their current situation it seems weirdly intimate. “For real though, man, if you just wanna pretend this never happened, I’m good. But, uh…” For once, Vaughn actually has the decency to be bashful, casting his gaze sideways with an unsure smile, “in the interest of, like, full disclosure, or whatever… I’ve wanted to do that for _years_.”

Rhys is surprised by the confession, though not as much as he would have been ten minutes ago. He pinches his lips together, trying to think through the flood of hormones assaulting his thoughts.

“I mean, this is kind of weird, you have to admit,” he says finally.

“Only as weird as you make it,” Vaughn says.

Rhys swallows. It’s late. He’s lonely. Vaughn’s a good kisser. It’s way warmer under this blanket than on his side of the couch. The biggest downside is the possible ramifications of this development to their already existing friendship – and those possible ramifications aren’t even guaranteed. Even if they do make out, nothing has to change. It’ll have just been an experiment, nothing more. And Vaughn had already said it: Friends with Benefits. It doesn’t have to come with emotional baggage. It doesn’t mean their friendship is suddenly over to be replaced with the terrifying unknown territory of romance.

It’s a good make-out, nothing more.

He looks at Vaughn again, unsure of what to say. Vaughn’s resting his head in his hand, his eyes closed. For a moment Rhys wonders if he’s asleep, before he opens his eyes and scratches his face.

“Anyway, I’m getting tired. I’m going back to--”

Rhys leans up and kisses him again. Before he closes his eyes he catches Vaughn shrugging, and then there’s a hand on his chest and a tongue in his mouth.

Rhys lets his head fall back to rest on the couch, Vaughn braced against the couch and his chest. The kiss is messy, needy, open-mouthed and increasingly desperate. Vaughn tangles his hand in Rhys’s hair, and Rhys does his best just to keep up, sliding his hand to the back of Vaughn’s neck. He bites Vaughn’s lip again, mostly just because he likes how Vaughn shivers when he does so, how his shoulders hunch and his back arches. He sucks, and Vaughn unexpectedly bucks his hips, sending goosebumps up the small of Rhys’s back. He pulls away with a wet pop, surprised and confusedly aroused.

“Sorry--” Vaughn gasps. “You just got me--”

Rhys rolls onto his side and pushes his face into Vaughn’s. He catches Vaughn’s lip in his mouth again, grazing it with his teeth before drawing it into his mouth and sucking hard. Vaughn bucks his hips again, and this time Rhys returns the gesture. Vaughn’s nails dig into Rhys’s scalp and he pulls away just enough to breathe.

“Holy _shit_ , dude.” His hands fly down from Rhys’s head to his hips, squeezing them, pulling them into his; they rock together, sending lightning through Rhys’s veins. Vaughn kisses him again, his hands firm on Rhys’s hips, but even though he tries to control the situation, all Rhys has to do is pull his bottom lip between his teeth and his friend is a keening mess. Still, it’s fantastic, every time they roll their hips together and Rhys’s stomach coils tighter, fresh waves of adrenaline and electricity and elation tumble through him. Vaughn’s fingers are dug so hard into Rhys’s skin he knows there will be marks, not that he can find it in himself to care. He might even like the idea a little bit.

He pulls away from Vaughn’s mouth to move across his jaw to his neck, leaving sticky wet kisses in his wake. Vaughn breathes hard, writhing to press his body flush against Rhys’s, tangling their legs together and wrapping an arm around his back. Rhys’s stomach twists pleasantly, and slides his tongue along the side of Vaughn’s throat, just under the jut of his jawbone. He nips and sucks, and Vaughn laughs shakily, burying his fingers back into Rhys’s hair as they push their hips together again.

“Are you trying to give me a hickey?”

“Not trying,” Rhys replies, and gives one last suck; Vaughn arches his back and whines. “Doing.” Rhys smiles cheerfully as he scrutinizes the dark blotchy bruise he’s left on his friend’s neck. Vaughn looks at him sideways, looking all-too-amused. He laughs. “Something to remember this weird-ass night by.” He rubs his spit off of Vaughn’s neck with his sleeve.

“Thanks.” Vaughn’s voice is deadpan, but his hands are shaking and there’s a gentle smirk on his swollen lips. He lets his head lull, resting on the couch, his eyes closed. He’s still rocking his hips lazily against Rhys’s though, and after a couple of seconds his hands trail down from Rhys’s hair, down his neck and chest, to his hips. He slides his fingers under the hem of Rhys’s shirt, his fingers freezing cold against Rhys’s too-hot skin. Short nails drag up his sides and then back down, circling around to the small of his back, bravely venturing just below his waistband before beginning the cycle anew. Rhys shuts his eyes, biting his lip, just letting himself get lost in the feeling of Vaughn’s hands on him, working into the slow, languid rhythm of their hips pushing together. He has to bite his lip to keep his mechanical fingers from crushing Vaughn’s arm.

The feeling of being pushed onto his back surprises him, but by the time he opens his eyes Vaughn is already on top of him, straddling him with one leg on the floor. He grinds down hard and Rhys gasps, swallowing down a moan, casting his gaze past Vaughn to the dressing screen, where Sasha is thankfully still asleep. Vaughn leans down and presses his lips against Rhys’s neck, running the tip of his tongue along the line of a vein before continuing further down, to the crook of his shoulder. He undoes the first couple of buttons on Rhys’s shirt, pushing them out of the way so he can go to town on the skin underneath.

He licks with the flat of his tongue, followed by teeth and a hard, sudden suction. Rhys’s hips buck upwards, and Vaughn laughs. Rhys tilts his head to give his friend more room, his flesh hand coming to rest clenched around Vaughn’s wrists. Vaughn licks again, and then bites again, and then sucks again, harder this time, and Rhys has to grit his teeth against the almost-pain. He bucks his hips again, this time on purpose, letting his mechanical hand rest on Vaughn’s thigh.

Vaughn gives his neck one last suck and pulls away, panting, damp with sweat.

“Revenge,” he says, wiping his mouth, and Rhys swallows hard at the sight. He shakes his head, throwing his arms around Vaughn’s back and yanking him down into a tight hug. Vaughn laughs out loud before silencing himself, burying his face in the crook of Rhys’s neck opposite to where he’d just finished.

They lay like that for a moment, just breathing. Vaughn wraps his arms around Rhys too, at least as well as he can manage. Rhys squeezes his eyes closed, trying in vain to ignore the throbbing between his legs that desperately, desperately needs to be fixed. He shakes his head again, squeezing Vaughn.

“I-I… I don’t think I can stop,” he says, his voice low. Vaughn sighs, his breath hot and wet on Rhys’s neck. Rhys shivers.

“That’s okay,” Vaughn says. He spreads his legs a little further and rolls his hips, very slowly, so that Rhys can feel every single thing. Rhys clings tighter, his breathing shallow. “Do you want to stop?”

Rhys thinks for all of one second before shaking his head. “No.”

Vaughn wiggles, and Rhys feels him smile. “Well, cool. Neither do I.”

He rolls off of Rhys onto his side again. There’s not much room between them, but enough that they aren’t currently touching, which gives Rhys a bittersweet reprieve to catch his breath. Vaughn seems to be doing the same.

And then he pulls Rhys’s hips closer, kneading the muscles underneath with his fingertips. He splays his fingers and drags them down, over Rhys’s still-clothed cock. Rhys gasps, swearing, his stomach twisting and turning violently with arousal. Vaughn presses his palm flat, stroking up and down, squeezing gently. Rhys shudders, his heart racing, muscles restless and twitching. He has to do something or he’s going to go crazy.

Hesitantly, he reaches down and strokes his fingers up the hard line of Vaughn’s cock, and Vaughn sighs dreamily, melting, his fingers pausing in their work. He grins and leans forward to press a slow, wet kiss against Rhys’s mouth. His hand resumes movement, and Rhys is unable to concentrate between the kiss and having his dick stroked. He thrusts into Vaughn’s fingers, keening for the heat and pressure. Vaughn shudders.

Impatient and desperate, Rhys grabs Vaughn’s wrist, pulls the front of his pants down, and pushes his friend’s hand back onto his dick. Vaughn pauses, surprised at the sudden turn of events, but then rolls with it, giving Rhys a long, slow pump and laughing as his whole body shudders and he moans into his arm to keep it quiet.

They kiss again, and it’s not long before Vaughn frees himself too. He draws closer to Rhys and positions himself so that he can get a hand around both of their cocks, pressed flush together. They both moan, thrusting together, and Rhys hasn’t ever felt anything like it but he loves it. Vaughn’s thumb swirls along both of their heads, and then his hand travels back down, squeezing and gently twisting, just enough to be felt. And then again, and again, and again, and Rhys grabs Vaughn’s hair and pulls him into yet another kiss, all teeth and tongue and saliva. Vaughn laughs, and Rhys pulls him closer, pulls his head into the crook of his neck and wraps his arms tight around Vaughn’s back. He digs his fingers into Vaughn’s shoulder blades, taut muscle and bone shifting as he strokes up and down.

Vaughn readjusts, sliding his free arm under Rhys and nuzzling his face into Rhys’s neck. Rhys closes his eyes, swallowing another moan, rocking his hips into Vaughn’s hand and the shared heat and friction of skin against skin.

“Faster.” He chokes it out, but his lips are right by Vaughn’s ear, and Vaughn responds accordingly, moving even closer to get a better grip, moving faster and squeezing harder. Rhys bites down on his tongue to keep from moaning, and Vaughn’s breath is coming faster now, erratic gasps against Rhys’s neck and chest.

Rhys thrusts into the rhythm, against the hard, slick heat of Vaughn’s cock. The sensation and friction is incredible, makes his head spin, heat spiking through his thighs and stomach and cock.

“I’m--we should--I’m gonna--”

Vaughn shakes his head. He bucks his hips into Rhys’s and pulls him closer, his hand moving even faster now. Rhys squeezes him, fingers digging into his back again, eyes shut as he holds out as long as he can.

“Ssshhhit, shit, shit--!”

Vaughn pushes close, almost flush against Rhys, and grinds hard into his hand as he climaxes. Rhys is babbling incoherently, something along the lines of, “shit, oh shit dude,” over and over again, and Vaughn laughs, pumping hard and fast until Rhys finally lets himself go with one last thrust into Vaughn’s hand.

Rhys doesn’t open his eyes. He is still squeezing Vaughn, who carefully frees his hand and drapes it over Rhys’s back, pressing himself flush against Rhys’s body. Part of him is dimly aware of the wetness seeping through his shirt, their shared mess, but he finds he doesn’t care as much as he would have thought; all he wants to do at the moment is lay here and maybe never get up.

Vaughn nuzzles him, sending little pinpricks through his jaw, and as his breathing returns to normal he pulls away.

“You wanna get a tissue?” Vaughn asks, somehow managing to sound casual without breaking the mood. Rhys rolls off the couch, tucking himself into his pants as he goes. “They’re up by the wheel.”

Rhys fetches several and returns, wiping up the mess on the couch and on Vaughn’s hand. After disposing of them he returns to Vaughn, who looks half-asleep already. He smiles lazily, making Rhys’s heart skip; as he nestles in by Vaughn under the blanket, they exchange one more kiss.

Part of Rhys is terrified about what this could mean as far as their friendship goes, that this could create an awkward rift between them… but they (and their friendship) have survived countless other things, far worse than a casual fuck, but also far less intimate. He would be happy with almost any outcome, good or bad, so long as it doesn’t involve their growing apart permanently; the mere thought sends ice through his veins, even as he settles in Vaughn’s warmth and closeness. He could be okay losing a lot of things, but Vaughn’s friendship… He’s not sure how long he’d make it before going completely crazy.

As he turns around, though, and Vaughn nestles his face between Rhys’s shoulder blades and drapes an arm over his side, that worry is quieted. For now, he is content.

**Author's Note:**

> This ship desperately needs more fic Q_Q


End file.
